Page 103 of Rules of Association

“Of course, love,” he said with a smile. “Hand it over.”

“Me too Pip-squeak, looks good,” Clay said.

“Yo tambien, mija,” my dad said from across the table.

By the end of it, I was the only asshole who’d passed on her dish and when it got back around to me, it was empty. Beside me Ria patted my arm, probably sensing my dejection.

I didn’t even look to my right. I could just feel the blazing aura from her ignited body. Something was obviously eating her, but fuck, something was eating me too.

Now as dinner conversation floated around softly to the background of soft instrumental music, clanking forks, and the ocean far off in the distance, I felt my mood regressing. And like a tether on a chain, I felt Cee going down with me.

Which is exactly what I didn’t need as Mal piped up, saying, “Connor’s told me you lot are doing swell, yeah? Business is going well?”

Across the table my mother coughed, more so for dramatics than a bodily reaction. Her eyebrows rising on her face as she looked at our guest. “Oh he did, did he? That’s quite interesting.”

“Interesting how?”

She shrugged, “Just interesting, I suppose.”

Beside me, I could justfeelCeci’s antennae poking up. She sat up straighter in her chair, her head swiveling from me, whose bite of pasta salad had gone sour in my mouth, to my mom, who looked as if she was holding back words she itched to come out and say.

“Is that some sort of riddle or something?” Ceci asked pointedly.

I knocked my leg against hers under the table in warning. She just knocked mine right back.

“No.” Mom waved. “It’s only a bit of family business. I just find it interesting Connor describes it as a particularly good time for us. That’s all.”

Malcolm paused. Blinking to me and then back to mom, “I’m sorry, I’m not following.”

“We’re getting hacked!” Clay said with a little too much mirth as he shoveled the helping of Ceci’s salad that was supposed to be mine into his mouth. “Like in a spy movie, but real life.”

“I’m sorry, hacked? Are you serious?” Mal set his utensils down and looked at me, stunned. “Are they quite serious?”

I grunted, my mouth going into a flat line. I couldn’t blame him. I’d be surprised too if I learned he was getting sued randomly considering his profession. Saying we were getting hacked was very broad spectrum. And very insulting considering what I do.

Groaning I leaned back deep in my seat saying, “Clay, would you shut the fuck up?”

My brother just threw his hands out to the side as if to say,‘what did I do?’

Beside me, Ceci said, “No. For once, Clay, please don’t shut up. Tell us more.”

I couldn’t help but glare at her, because seriously what was her problem? Okay fine she was upset for some random reason, and fine she decided to blow that steam off on me—right okay I could handle that. But was she really turning on me to prove some kind of point?

The thought lifted a dagger sized point to the edge of my heart. Nicking it just slightly but causing me to bleed everywhere. With a hardened jaw, I set my own utensils down.

Somewhere down the table Clint was silent, working at his food like nothing was happening around him. Clay continued to act like this was a joke. “Just as I said. Someone is hacking into the databases at Ferguson and mixing shit up. We won’t know what they want until Connor finds out who they are though.”

“And who knows when that will be,” mom said around a bite of chicken. “I’m thinking we should get lawyers involved before we run out of time waiting for your brother to do his tappy thing.”

Tappy thing. Like writing algorithms and networking was akin to playing with toys. I swallowed.

Under the table I felt a pinch on my thigh. Glaring to my right I met a gaze that was all fire and heat. In it I read exactly what she was saying with those eyes. She was telling me to say something. To speak up. But I couldn’t, so I just turned my chin away from her and resumed not enjoying the dinner in front of me.

Ceci stabbed a piece of chicken on her plate and started cutting like it was a hacksaw against a tree. Without looking up, her feeble attempt to seem uninterested, she said, “I heard the tappy stuff is called Computer Analytics, Marsha. We have a whole department for it at Fernandez if you want to check it out.”

My mom didn’t even look up at her, waving instead.

“Oh that’s okay, sweetie,” Mom said, her eyes cutting at Ceci. “We don’t need that, we’ve been doing things a certain way since before you were born. What we really need is a new CFO. Oh, and I know my boy loves his toys and what have you, but that brain of his was made for something greater.”

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